


Ignite The Embers Of A Wildfire

by brokenspell77



Category: WWE
Genre: M/M, Slash, WWE - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 02:38:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9471683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenspell77/pseuds/brokenspell77
Summary: After 9 weeks away CM Punk returned to WWE at Payback in Chicago. But what really made him disappear from the company for two months? Was it his loss to The Undertaker, or something else that happened that night at Wrestlemania 29? WARNING: Explicit slash/Swearing. *ONE SHOT* CM Punk/Randy Orton. Punkton.





	

Nine weeks.

Over two months.

That's how long CM Punk had been away from the daily grind of working in the biggest wrestling company in the world. One week removed from Wrestlemania 29 was the last time The Second City Saint appeared on WWE television.

He left surrounded in mystery. He left under a dark and gloomy cloud that had grown increasingly ominous in the months leading up to the biggest wrestling extravaganza in the world. High profile losses to John Cena and twice to The Rock then losing at the actual event to The Undertaker had deflated the Best in the World, so much so on his last appearance on Raw before his hiatus he could barely find the words to express his feelings, and the man that once wielded lethal pipebombs let the microphone slip from his fingers and his voice became muted.

The self proclaimed Voice of the Voiceless was now voiceless himself.

The confused face of his friend and manager Paul. E. Heyman he ignored unable to explain himself. Unable to verbalise just how lost he felt. He questioned his abilities. He questioned his skill. He questioned his mental strength. But more than anything he questioned what he felt deep inside. He lost all faith in his decisions. His faith in himself.

He shielded himself from the prying television cameras, the buzz from the crowd had long ago faded into the background. He disappeared from the WWE Universe's view and once backstage he didn't hang around, instead he fled the arena without looking back.

Days rushed by into weeks.

The pieces still hadn't been put back together. He couldn't go back there. Not yet.

Predictably the rumour mill had churned out story after story. He had heard them all; CM Punk was retiring, CM Punk was taking time of to heal injuries he had sustained, CM Punk was away because of his devastating loss to The Phenom. 

Rumour after damn rumour. Inquiry after inquiry.

On WWE television the story may have been told that Punk's self imposed exile was due to his loss to The Undertaker at Wrestlemania, and that Punk suffered a blow to his confidence in 2013 after the end of his epic and historical WWE championship reign and then the high profile loss only exacerbated it, and the story contained the truth in part. A very marginal part.

However, there was another reason. Another reason why Punk was questioning his decisions and what he felt in his gut. The main reason. The hidden story being The Second City Saint couldn't handle being around a certain Viper.

Ever since that fateful night on April 7th after his soul crushing defeat to the Deadman, Punk had had no contact with Randy Orton. No phone calls. No text messages. That's what he believed he needed. What he told himself he wanted.

Distance. Time to digest what happened between them. Yet every time he tried to rationalise their actions his mind and body surged with lust. The mere memories were enough to send him straight back to that night. 

The sights. The sounds. The touch.

He hadn't come to terms with it in the slightest. He believed he would never understand what possessed him to make such a decision. Punk shook his head in exasperation, then looked around taking in his surroundings.

It was as if the past had caught up with the present.

Or to be more accurate, Punk's past had caught up with the present. Familiar surroundings. His return generated a huge buzz. The Chicago crowd gave him a hero's welcome. Punk loved being back out there doing what he does best, but still the cloud hung over his head.

He returned with success. A victory over Chris Jericho. And now he stood alone, outside the back of the arena where the production trucks were parked. He still had his wrestling gear on. His hair still damp with perspiration. He had one hell of a contest with Jericho, as expected. But it wasn't his victory or his disagreement with Heyman that propelled him to the nearest exit for much needed air to calm himself down.

No, that accolade belonged to Randy Orton.

The Apex Predators tag team title match immediately followed Punk's bout and despite avoiding Orton all day he finally ran into him. As he came through the curtain he felt the cold blue eyes zeroing in. And just like that night back in April he felt his breath catch in his throat, his body quake and a rush bolt through him. He kept his head down, he stared at his feet not daring to look into the snakes hypnotising eyes. He escaped to a safe haven. 

Now the chill of the night air had quickly soothed his panic and he drew the zipper up higher on his Gracie Jiu-Jitsu hoodie. But he couldn't withstand the pressure anymore. He couldn't fight any longer. He gave in and succumbed to the memory and drowned in it...

The hard, thick length stretched him, and he felt the most delicious collision of pain and pleasure as Orton drove into him with vigour. Punk's knuckles where white from clinging on to the crate in front of him.

Another thrust sent shock waves through him and he felt his aching dick throb. Punk started to push back into Randy's brutal thrusts, not caring in the moment if anyone heard his erotic mewls and whimpers dripping from his lips. He began to to fist his leaking cock, desperate for release.

Punk was on fire. He had never felt so aroused. So much lust and excitement rushing through his veins. A far cry from how he felt twenty minutes before hand. His crushing disappointment was for the time being a footnote in history as he revelled in the inferno that Orton and he had created.

Punk's head fell, unable to keep looking straight ahead, his body was turning into a boneless mass as he felt his climax nearing. Suddenly something caught his eye as he laid eyes on the material beside his feet. His grey and purple trunks. The colours a nod to The Undertaker, something he hoped would rile The Deadman up even further. 

He stared at the attire and suddenly the void in his heart returned. A persistent voice began to question what he was doing. The purple bled into the grey, and the grey turned to a sinister shade of black and Punk stood on the brink of falling into the abyss. 

Then Orton saved him, bringing him back into the heated flames as he pounded into his previously virginal ass and located his prostate. Punk's eyes fluttered shut, a moan drifted on and on, his hand faltering on jerking himself off as he basked in the glorious feeling.

Randy had a tight grasp on his hips, the deep grunts coming from behind him turned him on even more than he thought possible. No feeling came close to this. No career milestone brought out this euphoria.

He ascended further and further, higher and higher, he felt his whole body was on fire and he reached his climax, his cum rushing out of him in the most mind numbing, earth shattering orgasm of his life and as it tore from him he shouted profanity after profanity into the night.

Randy never halted. Punk released his grip on his spent cock and braced both hands back on the crate as Randy plunged deeper and harder than before. Punk's eyes snapped open and realisation swept him up in their waves. He came to his senses.

What had he done? What had he just willingly engaged in? What was that feeling he had in his heart right now?

Despite the regret that was gnawing him, buried deep beneath happiness and joy lingered. But the regret stomped all over it so hard that it wasn't at all apparent.

Randy's thrusts turned erratic and with a deep growl in his ear Punk felt the man's thick long dick erupt inside of him and the feeling caused his eyes to roll into the back of his skull. 

Punk felt numb. He operated on auto pilot as he dressed. Tucking himself back into his trunks he turned and crashed into reality. The void was back. A black hole that he was being sucked into the vortex of.

Punk felt the walls being built up brick by brick. He started to shut down. What had he done? He was so fucking lost. He didn't say a word. He just turned from the Viper and rushed back into MetLife stadium. 

He went for a shower, scrubbing unwanted memories from his skin. But no matter how long he stood under the spray it couldn't wash away the memories that were locked uptight in his mind...

Those memories in his mind he had carried with him. No matter how hard he tried to erase them. The night of April 7th he obtained no sleep. Whenever he closed his eyes his encounter with Orton flooded his senses. And it happened the following night. And the night after that.

A week disappeared.

Paul Heyman, Triple H, Vince Mcmahon, even Orton himself tried to contact him. But he cut himself off. He needed to reflect. To compose himself. When it became evident he couldn't he realised he needed to sever the ties with WWE. At least for the short term. 

During his hiatus he indulged in his favourite television shows, went to music gigs, and went to a hell of a lot of hockey and baseball games. But with every step he took he felt hollow inside. The fire inside of him had been extinguished and for the nine weeks he was gone for he couldn't distinguish what had caused the black abyss he was languishing in.

Was it down to his losses and the lack of passion he felt for his job or was it down to the out of control passion and fire he harboured whilst engaging in sexual intercourse with Orton that he now was living without?

He hoped to find clarity once he stepped back into the wrestling world, once he stepped foot back into the squared circle, but he still lived in the black hole. It was a mystery. He was still spinning in the vortex of the abyss.

He ran his palms over each side of his face, his eyes slipping shut as he sighed into the gentle breeze. 'So how long were you going to avoid me for?'

Punk's eyes flew open. He would recognise that voice anywhere. He had heard it enough in his dreams over the last two months. Punk looked to his side and was greeted by a sweating and glistening Randy Orton.

The Apex Predator must've searched for him as soon as his match concluded. The knowledge of that made his heart beat quicken. But he ignored it. He buried it. His defences were up. 'Who's avoiding?'

Randy was looking at him. Right at him. Punk felt he was under a microscope and he couldn't take it. He turned from Orton with every intention to return back inside the arena, but the gentlest touch of a hand on his shoulder made him stop dead in his tracks.

'So that's it? That's all we're going to say? You're just going to run again?'

Punk knew his normal modus operandi to someone not so subtly calling him a coward would be to launch a full scale scathing retort in response, but any reply was absent. He remained uncharacteristically silent.

Inside his head however was a myriad of voices. So many yelling and screaming that he couldn't understand a single one. Nine weeks he had endured that hell, the cacophony of noise while he wallowed in the abyss.

Randy looked on, at first he was tense expecting Punk to bite back with a ferocious snarl, but the longer the silence lingered the more he became concerned. This wasn't the CM Punk he had known and argued with over the years.

To be honest, both the CM Punk and Randy Orton's that came together on April 7th were strangers to both men, but despite that Randy felt no concern about those new incarnations of themselves. The strangers of that night he wanted to know. He wanted to learn more about. He wanted to be.

Orton took a step closer. He turned Punk to face him and the lifeless Straight Edge Saviour didn't fight him. 'You didn't think about me while you were gone?'

Punk swallowed the lump in his throat. Every fibre of his being was urging him to say that Orton was the one and only thing on his mind, but the silence stifled him.

'You didn't think about what happened between us at all?' 

The urge grew, his stomach tightened and rolled into knots. One word, one syllable languished on the tip of his tongue. He pleaded for his voice to say what his head was yelling, but instead it betrayed him.

'No.'

Orton immediately looked dejected. Punk hated that. He hated the fact that he had caused that. The dejection was momentary as within a flash the look morphed from dejection to determination. Orton stared into the green as Punk got lost in the blue oceans depths and as he withstood the Vipers intense gaze he realised Randy knew his words were a lie. He was grateful Orton didn't challenge him on his deception.

'Well I did.' Randy stated with assurance. 'You are all that's been on my mind. As soon as I knew you were coming back I told myself that I'd tell you how I felt, but you were nowhere to be found. Then you blanked me at gorilla position. Normally that would piss me off, but still here I am. The moment I got backstage after my match I wanted to find you. And do you know how long it took me?' Randy asked, but didn't wait for the stunned Chicagoan to answer. 'A minute. I knew you would be right here.'

Punk was stunned by Randy's declaration. Orton's candour he admired. 'How did you know I'd be here?'

'Because it's right where we should be.' Randy replied simply, slowly looking around the area.

Punk looked around. The city may be different, so may be the arena, but the familiarity was there. The significance of their current location wasn't lost on Punk. He was irresistibly drawn out there. His feet guiding him, his body ruling over his head. His feet kept him there, kept him rooted to the spot. Kept him waiting until he showed up too.

Apparently history is repeating itself.

Orton took a step closer, well inside Punk's personal space now, and Punk could feel the heat. The fire was still alive. The embers flickered. 

Randy tilted his head and Punk watched as the Vipers eyes narrowed on his lips. A gentle thumb ran along his soft bottom lip. 'You're missing something.' Randy summarised, alluding to Punk's missing lip ring.

'Fancied a change.' Punk replied, mild surprise at finally finding his voice more and more. It was quiet, but it was there.

'Change can be good.' Randy smiled as he took in the new grown out hair, the new facial hair and the new ring gear. The tiny amount of black fabric adorned with a logo that was a collaboration of a CM Punk symbol and the Chicago Blackhawks hockey team symbol clung seductively to Punk's sexy body and Randy struggled to contain his lust and not tear the trunks from Punk's hips and indulge fully in Punk's delicious body like he had craved to ever since the first time a long nine weeks ago. 'You look amazing.'

Punk smiled at the compliment and affection from the usually cold and angry Viper. He didn't want to smile. He shouldn't. Yet the words from Orton made his heart swell and a smile shine. 'I didn't think you paid enough attention to me to notice the missing lip ring.' Punk managed to stutter.

Randy's eyes still shone into Punk's and the flames grew more dangerous and out of control. 'For the last two months all my attention has been on you.'

There were flames flickering in Randy's eyes, and Punk could feel the heat all over every inch of his skin, sending tingles over his flesh. He had ran last time. He had ran for nine weeks. Would he do the same again? Did he even want to? One thing was for sure, he could only run for so long, eventually the road would end.

For nine weeks Randy Orton had kept his mind hostage. For nine weeks he let their encounter fester in his mind. He lost control nine weeks ago.

Now was the time to reclaim it.

Lips met lips, and hands held each onto each others bodies. Punk ran his tongue along Orton's lips and without hesitation Randy's tongue swept alongside Punk's. The flames swirled and the fire crackled in their ears and Punk felt the vortex slow and the black abyss dissipate. The black was met with light, colour streamed back into his life until the only thing Punk could see before him was the beautiful man stood in his arms. 

Punk smiled, the affection he felt for the man was clear to see. Another heated kiss ensued and before he knew it Punk's new trunks were stripped from him and on the the floor beside his feet whilst he was bent over, palms on a crate with a wide stance and his ass pushed back wantonly toward Randy.

The moment Randy pushed inside Punk felt the explosion, the fire getting closer. A fireball erupted and threatened to consume them both in flames.

Randy nipped and nibbled at his ear and whispered; 'I've missed this.'

Punk's smile grew, but he wondered something. 'How can you miss something you've only ever had one time in your entire life?' He panted.

'Because I knew the moment it ended that I wanted it again and again. For forever.'

Punk squeezed Randy's hand in his own and leaned back into the solid wall of muscle behind him and twisted to kiss Randy. For a moment the whole world stopped. Time stopped ticking. Their eyes met, they stared lovingly. Punk understood why Randy missed it, he had missed it to. Another kiss, and then the fire swirled around them, with no escape in sight.

Punk braced himself placing both palms back on the crate as Randy roughly pounded into him. Randy found his rhythm and angled his thrusts with sensational skill to nail Punk's prostate time and time again.

Punk eagerly pushed back into the forceful snap of the Vipers hips. Punk looked down and like last time he found himself in this situation his eyes fell upon his discarded trunks. But this time there was no vortex dragging him away. No, he was cocooned in fire and he relished the flames that swirled and circled around Randy and himself.

They were a blaze and Punk couldn't contain his arousal. He shouted a litany of 'Fuck's', 'Oh yeah's' and 'Randy's' as he took a rough hold of his leaking dick and set a frenetic pace. His budding orgasm was dangerously close and he warned Randy. The Viper never slowed, in fact his fingers tightened on Punk's hips leaving red marks that would undoubtedly linger for days.

The blaze was out of control, growing wild and as Randy rested his shining torso on top of Punk's equally sweaty back the change in angle sent his thick and long cock deeper inside of Punk's tight, soft and warm ass.

Punk moaned with delight and the walls of his ass clenched trapping Randy's manhood, and creating the most amazing friction. Randy rested his head near Punk's ear and as the Apex Predator licked and whispered in his ear Punk ran into the flames and rose like a phoenix as he reached his incredible climax. Thick spurts of cum shot from the throbbing and pulsating shaft covering Punk's fingers and creating miniature pools on the ground below. 

Rapid breaths and distorted vision caused Punk's legs to buckle, but Randy held him upright with a strong tattooed arm coiling around his waist. Delicate fingers tracing over the straight edge tattoo on Punk's belly, right from S to E.

Punk whimpered in sheer ecstasy as he felt his skin still burning. The words whispered from Randy as he rode the crest of the wave to the biggest orgasm of his life still echoing in his ear. 

'I love you.'

Randy was now building to his own crescendo, his thrusts still hard and fast. Punk was still with the motion, pushing back onto his man's impressive manhood. Randy whispered he was close and with every plunge back inside Punk's tight heat he nailed Punk's sweet spot keeping the Second City Saint erect and hard as a rock.

Randy buried his head in the back of Punk's head and neck, the distinct aroma of sweat mixed with deodorant and shampoo and a smell that was just simply CM Punk made Orton's head swim, and sent him over the edge and with a hoarse cry of Punk's name Randy came. Burying himself deep inside Punk's ass he released.

The inferno sent flames higher and higher. They were men on fire.

Punk was euphoric, the feeling of Randy hitting and resting against his prostate and the feeling of Randy's thick warm cum filling him up caused Punk to reach a second orgasm as more cum shoot from the engorged bulbous purple head and dribbled down the thick shaft. Punk felt both hands being held and fingers interwoven as Randy nuzzled comfortingly against his neck. 

The fire was still bright and a blaze. It wouldn't be extinguished. It couldn't be extinguished. Punk made sure of it as he whispered into the silent night; 'I love you too.' He sighed contentedly as he felt a delicate kiss placed on his shoulder.

Minutes passed as they held each other enjoying the afterglow. Rapid gasps returned to calm breaths. Rough and forceful touches, grabs and scratches dwindled to gentle caresses. Intense, frenzied and impassioned kisses were now soft demure pecks.

Randy's softening dick slipped free from Punk's body and both men redressed back into their ring gear. As soon as Punk's trunks were back in place Randy tugged Punk into his radiating body heat. 'I'm loving the new look.'

Punk chuckled. 'Yeah?'

Randy nodded and kissed Punk deeply. 'I missed you.'

'I missed you too.' Punk admitted now unafraid.

The real story?

His hiatus had little to do with a loss after all. It had more to do with what he had gained on that Wrestlemania night. And what he had gained with Randy Orton was completely unexpected and not just because of it being Randy Orton or because of his gender. It was just so out of the blue, and it was more to do with the sheer level of attraction and love Punk felt after that first night on April 7th. It was a shock to the system. 

Something was born between them that night that his heart wanted to explore, and though he hated to admit it, it scared Punk plain and simple. 

But now he wasn't afraid. Just like he had hoped, he found clarity. He just didn't find it in the way he expected. But once he was back with Randy and back in his arms all the fear evaporated and it all became crystal clear.

Randy and he were meant to be.

The fire was back. Only now it was more than a swirling inferno. It was a wildfire. An all consuming wildfire. The embers had been reignited on June 16th.

The wildfire had enveloped him in its red and orange flames. 

He was content to succumb to the flames, knowing that Randy would be right there beside him, burning in the wildfire.

...............................


End file.
